The Touch
by Shotzette
Summary: Why can't Laverne enjoy her success on stage?


"The Touch"  
  
By Shotzette  
Rated PG-13  
  
This is only a work of fanfiction. It is not intended to infringe upon anyone's copyrights or intellectual properties. It was just written for  
grins and giggles, not dollars and cents.  
  
This story takes place after Season 7's "Sing, Sing, Sing"  
  
Laverne DeFazio tiptoed down her staircase quietly. By the sound of the even breathing--and occassional quiet snores in the bedroom, it sounded like Shirley had finally finished her chamomile tea and fallen asleep. Hopefully, her laryngitis would be gone by tomorrow. Laverne grinned to herself. Shirley's endless voice lessons with Carmine had improved her singing, but they didn't realize how strenous the exercises had become. She then counted herself lucky that she had only worked with Carmine one afternoon.  
  
Laverne felt an obscenely wide grin spread across her face again. She had performed at Hoot Night, and the crowd had loved her! Well, she amended, they loved when she and Lenny performed together. She was a success. Her, Laverne De Fazio, the girl who'd been asked to leave every choir she'd ever auditioned for. And success felt... Lonely?  
  
Her grin faded as quickly as it had appeared. One of the biggest triumphs in her whole life, the night which validated her dream of one day, maybe being a professional entertainer, and where was she? Home, and as good as alone. Shirley was upstairs, dead to the world; Carmine was at the drugstore buying throat lozenges for his Angelface; Squiggy was off with weird Francine doing Heaven only knew what; and Lenny...  
  
Lenny was off with Sabrina Bousch. The new love of his life.  
  
A frown creased Laverne's brow. Of course Lenny was off with Sabrina! That was the whole purpose of his performance tonight, to impress the girl he had worshipped from afar. She'd even helped him. She'd encouraged him, advised him, and even physically shoved the girl into a chair and forced her to listen to Lenny as he played his little heart out for her.  
  
Then why was she feeling so... Gypped? Abandoned?  
  
Alone.  
  
And why was she hoping that Sabrina's pretty young face would somehow end up in the deep-fat fryer at Cowboy Bill's? Briskly, Laverne shook away the violent image parading before her eyes as she began to pace back and forth in the silent apartment.  
  
Lenny was just a friend, nothing more. God knows, she'd had to drum it through his thick skull more times than she cared to remember He was a buddy, a pal, a goofy guy she'd known since grade school who'd always had a crush on her. Until now.  
  
No! She rebuffed the thought angrily. She was happy for Lenny. Happy, damnit. He was a terrific, if kind of weird, guy. He was a sweet person who deserved to have some happiness at some point in his up to now, miserable life. His mom had run out on him when he was five, his pop was a zombie of a guy who worked double shifts at the cannery, coming home only to vegetate in front of the television with a cold TV dinner and a warm Shotz in front of him. And Lenny's best friend in the world was Squiggy, of all people. That alone should have given him a chance on a boy version of "Queen for a Day".  
  
Not to mention he's spent God know's how many years pining over a woman who only wanted to be his friend, she reminded herself maliciously. Why, she pondered. Why didn't she want to be more than friend's with Lenny? Yes, he was weird--but it's not like she'd ever been known for her high standards she thought as a rogue's gallery of loser dates paraded before her closed eyes. She'd dated worse, she'd kissed worse, and as Jake the Snake's leering face flashed before her eyes, she had to admit that she'd done a lot more than kiss worse men than Lenny.  
  
Then why? Maybe it was because he always seemed like some sort of a packaged deal with Squiggy? Maybe she just couldn't deal with Shirley's disapproval? Maybe she'd just known him too many years to think of him as anything more as some sort of weird brother?  
  
Possibly. But, she thought as her cheeks reddened in embarrassment, she really hadn't thought of him as a brother when they'd been on stage together earlier in the evening. She'd been play acting, of course. After she had gotten over her initial stagefright, she'd loosened up and decided to give the good patrons at Cowboy Bill's a show. And that's all it was. At first.  
  
When he pulled her towards him for a victory kiss, she didn't expect it. Lenny had stolen hundreds of kisses off of her over the years. Thousands. Then why did this one make her toes curl up? Better question: Why did she then pull away and point him towards an eager-faced Sabrina, who was desperately holding out her notepad for Lenny's autograph? Come to think of it, why did she instantly dislike Bridget back in Milwaukee?  
  
This is ridiculous, she thought to herself. She and Lenny were friends-- good friends, but just friends. All that happened tonight was that she was grateful to him for not letting her fall on her face tonight. That's all. And, well okay, she'd been going through a bit of a dry spell what with Sonny moving back to New York. Her body had probably just reacted to Lenny's instinctively, like she was desperate or something. Before she could fully wrap her brain around that unpleasant truth, the object of her consternation burst through her front door.  
  
"Hey, Laverne," Lenny said as he entered, still carrying his guitar.  
  
"Hey, Len," she replied as nonchalantly has humanly possible.  
  
His eyes seemed to lock onto her's for a brief moment, before he looked away. "I just wanted to see how Shirley's doing," he mumbled.  
  
"Oh," she said in a small voice as disapointment welled up inside of her. Turning away from him, she pretended to rearrange the knick knacks on the cement block shelf. "She's okay. She'll probably be singing her little heart out at Cowboy Bill's by the end of the week," she said, the bitterness in her voice surprising even her.  
  
"Good. Glad to hear it. She and Carmine sound so pretty together, y'know? Not that there's anything pretty about Carmine," he added hastily as a touch of nervousness danced across his face, "I mean, I'd never be stupid enough to call the former Golden Gloves Champ of Milwaukee a pretty boy, or nothing, I--"  
  
"Len," she interrupted, "can we wrap this up? Shirley's fine, you don't need to worry about her. You should probably high tail it back to Cowboy Bill's before Sabrina misses you." Laverne felt her cheeks flush with shame the instant the catty words were out of her mouth. Some friend she was. But, before she could apologize, Lenny cut her off.  
  
"Oh, yeah. Sabrina." His words hung in the air of the apartment, as he appeared to weigh the ones that followed before speaking. "We walked down to Eddie's Bar during her break and had a beer. I didn't want her to think I was too cheap to take her anywhere that didn't let me put it on my tab, y'know," he explained sheepishly.  
  
"Oh," Laverne replied as she wondered where Lenny was going.  
  
"We hung out, and y'know, talked a little.."  
  
"And?" Laverne prompted, despite her better judgement. If he tells me what base he got to, I'll scream, she vowed to herself.  
  
"She's very nice," Lenny added hastily, "She really liked my singing--yours to, Vernie. Don't roll your eyes like that, my grandma always told me they'd stick if you did that too many times. Anyway, Sabrina's really into music, and musicians. She's was a huge Buddy Holly fan, but she didn't get to hear him that much. She was only in junior high when he died."  
  
"Yeah, Len. She's a young one." Laverne said dryly as she sat down on the couch and began to unzip her suddenly uncomfortable go-go boots off of her suddenly aching feet. Damn cheap boots, she thought. On sale or not, she should have walked out of the store when she realized they didn't have her size, but no--she had to convince herself that buying a pair half a size too small was a good idea.  
  
"She also likes Simon and Garfunkel, The Beatles, The Stones, The Kinks, The--"  
  
The sound of her right boot hitting the floor put an end to his recitations of Sabrina's likes and dislikes. "That's great, Len. It sounds like you two have a lot in common," she said, as she tried for the life of her to force lighteness into her tone and a plastic smile on her face, before she turned her attention back to the stuck zipper on her left boot. She felt the couch shift as he sat down next to her.  
  
"Yeah, she's really into music, Laverne. But..." he trailed off.  
  
Forcing herself not to look at him, she continued to stare at the defective zipper in her hand. In her mind, the zipper had become the angry knot she felt her heart twisting into. Ruthlessly, she clawed at the boot, mindless to the scratch marks she left on her calf. "But what?"  
  
"She's a really nice girl, I ain't really got nothing bad to say about her. But..."  
  
"Again with the buts?"  
  
"She ain't all that bright. I mean, she knows everything about music. Heck, I could talk to her all day about songs and groups."  
  
"So what's the problem? You like music, she loves music--sounds like a match made in heaven," she said as the words thickened in her suddenly tightening throat.  
  
Lenny's frustrated sigh echoed loudly in the quiet living room. "Laverne, there's more to life than music. At least for me." Laverne chanced a quick look up, only to see him staring at her, a disconcerting intensity in his blue eyes. "Sabrina don't like sports." Lenny leaned in even closer to her and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, "she didn't know who the Braves is."  
  
"No!"  
  
"Yes," he replied as his head nodded vigorously. He looked down at her leg suddenly, as if just noticing the red welts on her inner calf. "Got a problem there, Vernie?"  
  
"I think the zipper's busted," she said, temporarily distracted from enjoying Sabrina's newfound flaws.  
  
"You hold the top of the boot, I'll work the zipper," Lenny said, as he bent closer to her leg and started to wiggle the metal tab against the newly straightened zipper.  
  
"So, Sabrina's not into sports," Laverne said, a dark part of her wanting to encourage Lenny.  
  
"Not a one," he replied, his eyes still focused on the boot. "She also don't like monster movies."  
  
"Maybe she just don't like 'Godzilla'--"  
  
"Nope. She's never seen a movie in ToHo scope. She ain't even scene the older stuff like 'Dracula', or 'The Mummy from the Tomb'. Got it!" Lenny's triumphant holler rebounded through the apartment, but Laverne was too transfixed to shush him. "Thanks, Len," she said with a smile, acutely aware that his hand still remained on her smooth calf.  
  
"No problem, Vernie," he smiled, the pleasure of accomplishment keen on his face. Lenny's smile turned bittersweet. "It's just like you said all those years ago in Milwaukee, Laverne. I gotta find a girl who likes the same stuff I do, and then she'll be the right girl for me." He looked down at his hand on her leg, as her heart started to pound. His eyes were suspicously bright when his gaze reached her's again. "But, you know how it goes. Sometimes," he said, his eyes clearly conveying that harsh lesson he'd learned so long ago, "only one person feels that way. Don't they?"  
  
The question hung in the air for long moments, as Laverne became hyper aware of the warmth of his hand, the beating of her heart, and the look in his eyes. "Yeah, Len. Sometimes only one person feels that way. But," she said as she felt his hand start to leave her, a sensation she wasn't ready to endure, "sometimes both people feel that way." The confusion in his expression nearly broke her heart. Slowly, without breaking eye contact, she straightened her left leg, allowing his hand to slide up past her knee without his moving a muscle.  
  
Lenny gasped, as a million questions seemed to form in the blue depths of his eyes. Before he had a chance to misunderstand or to bolt, Laverne leaned towards him. As her eyes focused on his generous lips, a tiny part of her felt a thrill that he was meeting her halfway. The resulting kiss was brief, but as passionate and poignant as a hundred kisses from her past. As he pulled away from the kiss, Laverne was amused that his hand hadn't retreated from her thigh. "Our first kiss, and you're practically at third base," she quipped, allowing a nervous giggle to escape her."  
  
A small frown crossed his slavic features. "It ain't our fist kiss. I've kissed you hundreds of times, Laverne."  
  
"It's our first real kiss, Lenny," she gently corrected him, as her hand travelled down his chest, revelling in his warmth and the rapid beating of his heart. "And I don't want it to be our last."  
  
He said nothing. She felt his hand slide further up her thigh slowly, the sensation causing her to moan quietly. She felt him sigh, as if in relief. He seemed to trust the response of her body more than the words from her lips. She wasn't surprised, she knew that her words had hurt him far more than her body ever could have.  
  
"Why now?" he suddenly whispered harshly. "Why after all of these years?"  
  
She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it took me nearly losing you to someone else? Maybe it was that kiss onstage tonight?"  
  
Lenny grinned. "I thought I was the only one who felt something during that kiss. I just told myself you were playing it up for the crowd, or to make Sabrina jealous."  
  
"You weren't the only one feeling it tonight, Lenny. I've been thinking about you non-stop since I got home tonight."  
  
"Really?" Both delight and suspicion warred in his face.  
  
"Really," she confirmed, as she scooched closer and pulled him down for the second of many kisses. As his hands began to play her more skillfully than they did his guitar, her happiness surpassed her earlier triumph at Hoot Night.  
  
FIN 


End file.
